


Life-Partners

by trufflemores



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dead or Alive - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Romance, amorphous time period, reaction fic, somewhere after 3.11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 08:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores/pseuds/trufflemores
Summary: Amorphous timeline, sometime after 3.11.  Cisco is totally gonna marry Cynthia.  Barry, who just wants to be with his girlfriend, makes time to be a supportive best pal.





	Life-Partners

_U free?_

Barry frowns, looking down at Iris on the couch cuddled up to his side. Tentatively, he texts back, _Sure?_ _What do you need?_

 _We need to talk_.

Letting out a soft disgruntled exhale, Barry thinks, _Now?_ The CCPD owns his ass for eight hours a day; STAR Labs claims the remaining eight coherent hours, clock-in-at-ten-end-at-six; and in those precious intervals of varying consciousness he attempts to behave as a normal human being. The usual: eat, sleep, watch Netflix, have sex with his girlfriend, feed the turtle, do laundry. That stuff. He already ate, slept, watched Netflix, and fed the turtle, and laundry night isn't until Thursday. He was kinda hoping to hit a home run.

 _Cisco, you better be in big trouble_ , he thinks. Texting back, all he writes is, _K. There in 5_.

Kissing Iris' head apologetically, he murmurs, "Duty calls."

"Aww." She leans up to kiss him, sweet and sleepy. "Don't take too long." Hand on his hip, she squeezes. "Night's still young."

There-in-five gives him four-and-a-half minutes to procrastinate. And there is no better procrastination in the world than the Iris West variety. But eventually his phone vibrates, _yo_ , and Barry groans. Time-up, he Flashes off.

"On a scale of one to ten," Cisco prompts the second he appears, "how likely is Cynco?"

Barry blinks, dumbfounded. A little mussed-up, and not just the hair-variety. "Yes?" he tries. Then, raiding Cisco's pantry for chips, he adds, "What's Cynco?"

"Cynthia. Cisco. Cynco." When Barry crunches down on another chip uncomprehendingly, Cisco sighs. "Dude."

"Sorry," Barry says, Flashing through the rest and crumpling up the bag, pitching it in the trash. "Kay. You have … like, thirty percent of my attention," he says, flopping on Cisco's couch, and props: it's still the comfiest piece of furniture Barry has ever experienced. It's more comfortable than his _bed_ , how the—

"Wow, you are not a good enough boyfriend," Cisco teases, sitting on top of his feet. "I thought Iris would at least hit eighty-five."

"Oh, she does," Barry assures. "Which is why I'm giving you thirty-percent. So I can get back to her ASAP."

"Interrupting date-night? Ouch," Cisco says, leaning back, arms folded behind his head. "God, she's so beautiful, isn't she?"

"Iris or – Celia?"

"Cynthia."

"Cynthia. Wait, who's Cynthia?" Barry Flashes, retrieving a box of Oreos and reclaiming his seat.

"Stop stealing my stuff," Cisco growls, yanking the box from him.

Barry Flashes again, laying on top of him in retaliation. "Who's Cynthia?"

"You're such a string bean," Cisco remarks, amused, as he pokes Barry in the side. "Seriously, we're like the same size, but you've got a solid two inches on me."

"That could be very easily misinterpreted," Barry points out, fishing for the Oreos and grunting in triumph when he gets one. "Cynthia?" he prompts through a mouthful of cookie.

"Charmer," Cisco explains. "Girl who nearly kicked my ass?"

"Ohhh. Her name's Cynthia?" Cookie number two costs him his seat on the couch as Cisco tips him off it. With a squeak, he lands on the floor. "Jerk."

"Steal a man's food, lose a man's couch," Cisco replies sagely, splitting an Oreo and crunching down on one of the cookie halves.

"You ask her out?" Barry asks, reaching up to Flash another Oreo out of reach. Cisco kicks at him and Barry yanks him off the couch. "She is smoking hot," he adds. "When she's not trying to kill us."

"She never tried to kill you," Cisco points out.

Barry arches both eyebrows. "Oh ho. No. She totally did. You know when HR and I –" He hesitates, not wanting to bring up any bad feelings.

Cisco spares him: "When you two were being total dicks and underestimated my skills in a misguided attempt to save my life, yes."

"Yeah! Well, she grabbed me and yanked me to one of those parallel – alternative – extra —"

"Alternate universes."

"Thank you." Barry snatches the next cookie from Cisco's hand; he totally deserves the elbow in his gut. "Before she cuffed me and brought me back, she had me hanging over the edge of a _cliff_."

"Wow." Cisco crunches down with awestruck slowness on a new cookie. "My soon-to-be wife is the hottest person on the planet."

"I contest that."

"I know you do. I'll fight you. Trial by combat, speedster. Right here. Right now."

Barry grins lazily because Cisco doesn't mean it but he _does_. "Kay."

Flash, and they're on the streets, Cisco in his jammies, protesting _loudly_ as Barry beams. "You were saying, Vibe?" He assesses their surroundings in a slow semi-circle, total control of the situation, and then _oofs_ when a hard blast throws him off his feet. "Nice shot," he grunts, hauling himself to his feet. He tries to run and realizes he can't – move. Fast, that is. "Uh," he says, standing a hundred yards away from Cisco. Were expressions capable of being transcribed, his would straight-up be: _???_

"Oh," Cisco says, "shoot." Jogging over, he calls, "Don't worry! It's temporary."

"What's temporary?" Barry asks, holding up a hand and frowning at it as it refuses to vibrate. "Cisco? What did you—"

Cisco comes to a halt in front of him. "I kind of knocked the Speed Force out of you?"

Barry's expression switches straight to an error message. "You – what?" Still attempting to vibrate his hand, he asks, "How the—"

"Speedsters are just bundles of strings that vibrate really fast," Cisco explains with a shrug. "I manipulate strings. I pinned yours down. Sorry, dude." Barry stares at his hand long enough that Cisco puts a concerned hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Um." Barry clears his throat so his voice doesn't squeak again. "You can _do that_?"

"Yes?" Cisco takes his elbow, steering him back towards the apartment complex. "Here, let's go back inside."

It's a little strange for Barry to have to scale four flights of stairs like a normal person, sitting on Cisco's couch. Cisco sits next to him and offers him an Oreo. Barry takes one slowly. "So this is just – a thing. You can do."

"Yep."

"Huh." They don't say anything for three minutes, clearing out Oreos, and then all at once the world slows down and Barry's heartrate calms. When he slows down to real time again, he says, "Cool."

"You're not mad?"

"I mean, I started it," Barry points out. Holding up the second-to-last Oreo, he says gravely, "A draw."

"A draw," Cisco agrees, tapping the last Oreo against Barry's. "Both our soon-to-be wives are the hottest people on the planet."

"Amen to that." Then, crunching down, Barry asks, "Have you even asked her out?"

"Uh." Cisco blushes and busies himself with his Oreo.

"Dude." Barry kicks his foot lightly. "Cowboy up."

Cisco kicks him back. "Says the man who took, by my best count, _fourteen years_ to ask the love of his life out."

"Actually, Iris and I met in second grade; we've known each other over twenty now," Barry corrects, smiling. He can't help it. Iris West: his girlfriend. It still gives him warm-fuzzies.

Cisco levels an amused grin at him. "I rest my case. I'm totally gonna ask her out."

When the pause draws out long enough, Barry asks, "This year?"

Cisco blushes. "I mean, you can't rush these things—"

"Cisco."

"This year," he affirms.

"Month," Barry challenges.

Cisco gets up, fetching a water for himself – and, because he knows Barry will steal it from him before he can blink, one for Barry, too – and returning to the couch. "Three months," he haggles.

"Do you really think the co-hottest-person-on-the-planet is going to wait ninety days for you to ask her out?" Barry reminds.

Cisco places Barry's water on the coffee table just out of easy reach. He deserves it when Barry steals his, Barry justifies, smiling. "Forty-five," he bargains.

"That's a month and two weeks. C'mon. One month."

Cisco swallows and picks up the water on the coffee table. "One month."

"If you did it this week—"

Cisco rolls his eyes and pokes his side again. "Uh uh. You shush. You've already hit your bartering quota."

"Oh, I still have plenty of blackmail," Barry assures, thinking back to memorable drunk-Cisco nights-out. He's even got pictures.

Cisco arches both eyebrows and Barry knows he's in trouble even before Cisco produces his phone. Flipping through it, he produces a video, and Barry closes his eyes and whines, "Unfair."

"You started it," Cisco reminds, pressing play.

Post-wisdom teeth removal, it's high-as-a-kite Barry hugging a large, polka-dotted frog statue. "Bar," Iris prompts off-camera, "honey, we can't take that with us."

"I love this frog," Barry on-screen says in a choked-up voice that can only partially be attributed to the gauze in his mouth. "This frog is my friend."

"This is visual terrorism," Barry of present grumbles.

Cisco just snorts into his drink. "Shh, this is my favorite part."

Barry on-screen sits on the ground, hugging one of the frogs' legs, and there's a pause before the video resumes, Joe in-frame with a hand on Barry's shoulder. "Buddy, we can't take the frog with us."

"I hate you _so_ much," Barry of present groans.

"One month," Cisco chimes in, pocketing his phone.

Barry salutes him with his water, grimacing. "Iris and I are having words."

Waggling his eyebrows, Cisco asks, "Words or … _words_?"

Barry rolls his eyes and props up his feet on the coffee table. "Words."

Cisco props his own feet up, leaning back against the couch. "I'm just saying, if _you_ weren't tapping that—"

Barry rolls his eyes and elbows him in the ribs. "What about Cynthia?"

Rubbing his side, Cisco sighs happily, "Right?"

Barry snorts. He feels that level of coherence around Iris, actually. "Right," he agrees.

"Have you popped the question?" Cisco asks companionably.

Barry chokes on his drink, leaning forward to cough. Cisco slaps his back twice, helpfully. "I, uh—wow. No. No, I haven't. We're not—" He hesitates over _there yet_. "It hasn't really – come up."

Patiently, Cisco reminds, "I mean, I wouldn't put it past her that she would propose to you, but I still think she's waiting for you."

 _Wherever you have to go – I will wait for you_.

Science-be-damned, he's certain his heart swells three sizes. "Yeah," he agrees a little dreamily. "I should – do that."

Cisco snorts, leaning against his side. "We're lame," he says, amused.

"How so?" Barry asks dryly, draping his arm around Cisco's shoulders in a distinct echo of his position with Iris scarcely minutes – _hours_ , it feels like – before.

"We have the two greatest people ever practically begging us to ask them to be with us forever, and we have cold feet."

"I mean, you still have to _ask_ Cynthia—"

Cisco pinches his side. "We're lame," he repeats.

Barry ruffles his hair. "The first step to recovery is admitting there's a problem," he teases.

Cisco leans a little more heavily into him. Barry doesn't miss it, aware that he may have overstepped. _Recovery_ is still an ear-marked word around them, close-to if not up-there with _counseling_ and _grief_. "Yeah," Cisco says at last, easy enthusiasm lost.

Barry squeezes his shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

Cisco doesn't banish him like he half-expects and Barry doesn't push the point, doesn't say anything for fear of walking back into that dark territory of we-don't-talk. It isn't until his phone buzzes that he moves, fishing it out of his pocket and smiling a little in spite of himself. Iris. _Hi._

 _Hi_ , he types back, and Cisco sits up and he mirrors the gesture.

_Caught up?_

Cisco yawns and waves a hand. _Go get her_.

Barry smiles and texts back, _Nope. On my way_. Out loud, he adds, "We good?"

Cisco nods, lifting his glass in a mock toast. "Bros who eat Oreos together stay together."

Barry taps his glass against Cisco's. "Hear hear." Finishing it off, he stands. "You gonna be okay?"

"I'm grown," Cisco assures, sprawling on his stupidly comfortable couch. "I'll manage."

"You should get a pet," Barry suggests. "Like an iguana."

Cisco lifts both eyebrows. "What, not an alligator?"

Barry scrunches up his nose, stretching his legs one-at-a-time behind his back. "They eat rabbits. You wanna be a rabbit-killer?"

"How about a chinchilla?"

Barry stretches his arms. "I could roll with that. Or, you know – you could be a traditionalist and get a fish."

"A fish?" Cisco looks at him as though he's offended his family line. "Barry."

"What? Betta fish are awesome."

"I don't think that solves my companionship problem."

"Maybe Cynthia has a pet," Barry muses.

"Maybe it's a scorpion," Cisco says, eyes lighting up. "Or a skink!"

Barry drops his arms. "What's a skink?"

"They're like – really big lizards. That bite."

"McSnurtle bites. They'd get along swell." Jumping up and down, last-warm-up, he adds, "Good luck."

Cisco Vulcan-salutes. "Go get her."

Barry mirrors him and Flashes off.

. o .

Iris asks dryly, "Are you two having an affair?"

Barry laughs and says, "Probably," before kissing her.

. o .

Cuddling Iris on their bed after, Barry has to admit that it feels damn good to hit a home run.


End file.
